Rachel wanders the streets aimlessly, fear nagging at her most practical heels. The murder hobo at her house could have had company. Rachel doesn’t know how many participants Narcodome has at a given time, and if they are all hunting for her. She tries to think as she walks.

  One night, it can’t take more than two, and her identification is cleared. She can survive that. In her earlier life that ended mere hours ago, Rachel had a multitude of options: to crash into Eli’s coach or treat herself to a hotel room, maybe even party the problem away, dance the whole night. Rachel Greene has money, except she can’t access her bank, and she can’t have armed people attacking Eli’s little flat.

  So far, Rachel has denied the collar’s requests to connect to her communication gear, but now she allows it to access her headpiece. She has the speaker implanted behind her ear like most people do, feeding the vibrations through the bone to her ear. The visuals can be sent to any surface with projection capability; cybernetic eyes and contact lenses are common choices, and Rachel has lightweight glasses for the purpose. She won’t let just any electronics communicate with her simulation cyberware.

  Two seconds online validates that she can’t access anything outside the boring interface Narcodome has opened for her. It shows her in-game profile, her track record in bodies and program money, and communication, which includes only a receipt of her complaint and a set of messages that look like an info package.

  Rachel gasps and leans against a wall for support as she notices her avatar. PCRC gives its participants new names to comply with some privacy legislation and even sells the naming rights for advertisements. Her avatar is a punk woman who doesn’t look at all like Rachel, but it is not the visuals that send shivers down her spine. Narcodome has named her Saffron Murder.

  Schuwalden Inc’s black operation team was nicknamed Saffron Squad. Her in-game name must be some obscure brand, it could be a restaurant name. This is just a coincidence, Rachel tells herself, but the heaviness in her heart and the horror of history say someone has found out her past and is making her pay.

  A group of teenagers circles her cautiously, and Rachel forces her shaking knees to straighten, as she doesn’t want to be seen as an addict in withdrawal. All the fear she has kept at bay rushes to her, threatening to drown her in suppressed memories, but Rachel is tougher than that, and she pushes the terror away. Saffron Squad’s survivors would surely have already killed her, should they have found her. The name must be just a coincidence.

  Rachel reaches reflexively for Whyte, who is not there. Maybe someone in the IUS fanbase wonders why knotgoddessARTEMISIA, Rachel’s alias, is not among the first ones to release reviews about the new episode. Rachel grits her teeth in frustration. The simulations and their fanbase were her oblivion for all these years. She has followers there! Even fans! The clips from her cyberware recordings were always famous.

  Without money, the world seems to be raising walls to block her plans. Rachel walks to the bar she sometimes used to visit. It is one of the franchises called Henrik’s Corner, a tiny place with only a short bar desk behind a bright green door. The catch is that every Henrik’s Corner is the same; the interior is the same, the barkeeper is the same, and he remembers his customers if the customer has visited any of Henrik’s before.

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  The barkeeper sells his visage and brain cortex to the franchise to become a standard Henrik. The cyberware implant in his brain connects to the company’s database, where customer information is stored. There is a sister company, Heidi’s, but Rachel always preferred Henrik and the never-ending broadcast of boat races running on the small screen between the bottles.

  She halts at the green door and lets the system scan her iris, hoping her membership is still valid. They used her Henrik’s code for the team party a few months ago, and all the money her boss spent earned Rachel some bonuses. She hopes they are still valid.

  The opening door sends a wave of relief into Rachel’s shoulders, a warm feeling flowing down, the relaxation reminding her she has not eaten since breakfast. The bar is narrow, and the side farthest from the windows is already occupied by a pair Rachel doesn’t know. She smiles at Henrik, who nods at her as Rachel takes a seat as far away from the pair as possible.

  “Rachel, dear. You have changed since I last saw you,” Henrik says, his Swiss accent clear when he pronounces her name.

  Rachel knows the barkeeper scans her identification, seeing the criminal tag there. “I ran into trouble, but I’m not trouble to you. Say, Henrik, is my balance still good?”

  “You still have the bonuses, dear. A tap cider?”

  Rachel nods in agreement and gets her pear cider. Henrik knows her as a customer who prefers to be left alone, for Rachel has always been accompanied by her simulations. Not today. After the second cider, she gestures to Henrik. “Heeenrik? I have this tiny problem I’d like to talk about.”

  “You have gotten yourself into some trouble, dear.”

  Rachel thinks she sees the man flicker behind Henrik’s franchise-defined eye implants, but it is a whimsy. “I will get it all cleared tomorrow; I promise. I’ll just need a place to stay for the night. Do you know anything?”

  “Are you willing to upgrade to a partnership program?” Henrik asks. The franchise has a matchmaking program.

  Rachel feels the alcohol and craving for Whyte, and a night with a random guy would solve her accommodation problem. “Can you take it from my bonus?”

  “Sure, dear. It leaves you with one more cider. Do you…”

  “Just use the data you have and create the profile. Pick one of the nice photos.”

  Henrik sets one more glass before Rachel and sips from his water. “Well, you can modify the profile, but I have a niche match for you, with approval for your current status. I’ll share his contact…”

  “Henrik, I can’t call him.”

  “Not a problem, dear. He is currently talking to me on Baltic Boulevard. I’ll invite him here to meet you.”

  Rachel nods. She drinks slowly, her eyes following the racing boats on the screen and twitching to the door every time it opens. She has kept herself out of the real-life dating market as simulations are so much better investments of her time, and now she doesn’t know what to expect.